A Man's Revival
by Fight 4 Randomness
Summary: Realizing his own shortcomings, Roy seeks help in the resistance against Bern from an old ally of his father's.


**A one-shot I was inspired to write after playing through Fire Emblem again, or Rekka no Ken if you prefer. I just shoved this out of my head as fast as I could to get myself back into a writing mood, so it probably makes less sense than my usual standard. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, nor any character or scenario described herein.**

**Random fact of the day: all polar bears are left-handed. Southpaws. Satan's advocates. Et cetera.**

**UNDERSCORE**

"My lord Roy," Marcus pleaded once more, "Why are we doing this?"

Roy sighed, his ruffled red hair falling in his face. He could never get it to stay matted down, even under the headband he always wore. "Marcus, you're the best knight in Pherae. You of all people should know we need his help."

"No, sir, frankly I don't. Is our situation truly so dire that we must employ this man?"

"We couldn't even tell we were walking straight into a trap with that fiend who captured Sue and killed Marquess Thria, and would've died without a stranger's quick warning. And that was here, in Lycia. It is our home. How can we hope to fare against Bern? We need a man who knows the enemy's tactics, one who can lead us to victory in battle. My father told me to seek him out if things became grim."

The elderly paladin nodded, his brow furrowed. "Roy," he said, dropping the honorific and taking the mentoring tone he so often used, "you can go ask him, but remember: everything changes. Even people."

"I know, Marcus. I doubt he will even help us. But I have to try." And with those words, Roy opened the door to Ostia's rowdiest tavern.

The muffled shouts were much louder than Roy anticipated, even having been in plenty of bars before. The best warriors from the Battle of the Dragon's Gate were often found in them, and the man they were looking for was no different, if Ostia's spies were correct.

He had been hard to find, for sure: Eliwood and Hector spent fifteen years hoping he would visit, and he never did. Royal invitations from Bern, Lycia and Erturia all called for him, offering nobility in return for his skills, but that only attracted lookalikes who had trouble learning to play chess. Finally Matthew, head of Ostian intelligence, had organized a competition to flush him out. The game was like an advanced chess match, where one controlled an army and moved to a checkpoint while battling other units. Matthew's brilliance was amazing: he located the man Roy needed not by judging who won the fastest or by who slew the most enemies, but by who had the most units alive at the end.

Matthew told no one but his lord Hector, who wrote a letter to Eliwood. If it were not for the latter's sickness, the two of them would have gone to meet the man together. The way things worked out, Marquess Ostia's curse to die in battle came true at last, and left Elibe without seeing his old friend again.

Roy shoved past a stumbling drunk, who took a lazy swipe in the boy's direction in return. The drunk lost his balance from such a simple move and fell, earning laughter and another round of drinks. Roy wrinkled his nose as the men indulged; he had never understood the fascination with losing one's sobriety and acting like animals, and not just metaphorically. There were at least three people bleating like goats.

"Roy, do you see him?" Lilina's voice startled him.

"Lil, leave before these guys do something stupid!" he replied.

The blue-haired girl laughed. "I have you to protect me, so why bother?"

His face reddening almost as badly as the other bar goers, he stuttered, "Okay, fine. Hey, I think that's him."

The man Roy pointed to was sitting at the far end of the bar alone. He had on a long hooded cloak, covering everything but his head, but it was obvious he was small in stature, nowhere near the bulk most middle-aged soldiers and ruffians tended to have. He was leaning over a half-full glass of mead, his short honey-colored beard catching the light. Grabbing his best friend's hand, Roy made his way toward the figure.

Sitting down at the stool beside the man, Roy briefly wondered why nobody was in close proximity any more, but brushed away the thought as a coincidence. "Are you him?" he asked the man, mentally kicking himself for such a stupid question.

To Roy's surprise, the man answered. "Yeah, I'm him. Depending on who 'he' is. I'm a man, so it could really be anyone. But I'm willing to bet that 'he' is the guy they organized that witty strategy game to flush out, in which case 'he' is indeed me."

Roy stood there for a second, putting together the man's words in his head. "So… you _are_ the man who won the competition?" he inquired.

"No, I lost to some creep who used suicide tactics. Those would never work in a real war, boy. Don't even think of using them."

Lilina piped up. "We're looking for the man who only lost a single character, his captain, prompting an instantaneous loss. His name was Wolf, but that was a pseudonym he registered himself under. So, is your real name Mark?" she asked.

The man, Mark, scoffed. "I don't use that name any more. But yeah, once again, I'm 'him'," he mockingly bowed his head to Lilina, then Roy. "What can I do you for?"

"I need your help as a strategist," Roy asserted, taking a half-step forward.

"Not offering."

"Why not?" Roy asked, taken aback. "You're the best tactician in the world!"

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, _boy_?" the man replied. "I play chess. I don't command armies. Never have, never will."

"Liar," Lilina said, surprising both men with her accusation. "I remember my father would always speak of you and how you led him and Lord Eliwood to victory over dragons. He said he offered you a job as his tactician, and you turned him down! And do you know where he is now?"

"Assuming your father is Marquess Hector, I'm gonna assume he's dead, after fighting an impossible battle at a location he didn't have to defend. He was always taking stupid risks."

"How dare you?!" Lilina retorted, stepping forward. Roy grabbed her wrist before she could slap the man they were trying to recruit. Attempting to jerk herself free of his grip, she stumbled and the two teen royals fell to the ground with a thud. She hurriedly stood up, fuming.

"Ha," Mark chuckled. "That reminds me of a girl I used to know, Lilina. What was her name…? Ah, yes. Florina. She was always a bit of a klutz."

"That's my mother!" Lilina gasped. "You _are_ the same Mark!"

"I don't recall denying it," the middle-aged man replied. Then he turned to address Roy again. "Why am I needed? You're young, and I'm sure you're capable of more, newer strategies than an old, washed up tactician from the good old days."

It was Roy's turn to scoff. "We can't avoid a simple surprise attack."

"Then hurry up and die already. Get smart or get killed, but don't you dare try to rely on someone else's strength. Hector did it and it cost him his life. Stupid Armads curse. We could have beaten Nergal just fine without it…" Mark began muttering under his breath.

Waiting a few minutes before interrupting Mark's train of thought, Roy cleared his throat. "So, uh… Mark?"

"What?" he looked up at the boy, annoyed. "I'm thinking!"

"I need an answer. Will you join us, at least as an advisor if not a tactician?"

"Probably not, kiddo," Mark answered. "I'm just a man a bit past his prime, just like Marcus, Karel, Bartre, the list of friends I'll never see again goes on and on…"

"Do you mean Marcus the Pheraean paladin?" Lilina asked.

"You know another Marcus that fought Nergal?"

"Well," Lilina went on, "He's outside, and fighting Bern with us. Just so that you are aware."

Mark's eyes narrowed. If he was right, the twenty-year gap between the two wars put Marcus in his late-sixties. He was truly still fighting? "That's… interesting, girl. Now leave me be and you'll have your answer in the morning."

Roy turned to leave, but Mark grabbed his shoulder. "Lilina, go wait for your little pal outside. I have a bone to pick with him."

Lilina nodded and exited the building. Mark patted the barstool next to him and Roy sat in it. "Now buddy, the issue is this: I can't fight. That's not what a tactician does. I'm a major liability, because I have to be within shouting distance of the soldiers in a battle, but protected more than even your healers and transporters. With that in mind, do you still think you can handle a tactician?"

Roy nodded. "I've been trained by the best. I'll see to your safety personally, if I have to."

"One more question, and then I'll consider your proposal. What's your name?" Mark asked.

Roy was startled for a moment before answering. "R-Roy. Did I forget to introduce myself?"

"I don't remember. Never do the first time. Roy…" Mark nodded. "Good name. A strong name. I recognized Lilina, but you I had to be sure about. Well Roy, beat it. Come back and find me tomorrow."

So the red-haired boy left, and Mark breathed a sigh of relief, slumping in his chair. He suspected, but now he was certain. Fate doesn't beat around the bush: she knew this war was serious, and that the children of destiny needed a guide. Who was Mark to reject Fate's cruel hand?

"You gotta die sometime," he muttered, fingering a pendant hanging from a chain on his neck, a gift from his best friend. It was shaped like a tiny Mani Katti. Mark intentionally pricked his finger on the pendant's point, a habit he picked up doing before making risky orders. "Lyndis… Is this what you want?"

* * *

"_Mark! Where are you?" Lyn called, laughing when she saw him tangled in a patch of briars. "Need some help there?"_

"_Please," he said, grinning goofily._

_Digging him out with her sword, she helped him to his feet. "I haven't seen you all day, and yesterday it seemed like you were avoiding me too… Did I anger you somehow?"_

_Mark frowned. He _was_ avoiding her, but it was not her fault in the least. "Nah, must've just been bad luck. Things are getting fairly busy, you know."_

"_Liar."_

"_Okay, fine," Mark conceded quickly. Lyn always knew just when he was lying. _

"_So what's really wrong? Exhausted from training? Or... girl troubles?" she teased._

"_No, it's just… Well, do you think I'm useful?"_

_His Sacaean friend scoffed. "Is this a trick question? Of course! How far would we have gotten without you? I would probably have been killed by those very first bandits we faced together, and you can forget about defeating my uncle."_

"_But _I _didn't do any of those things. You killed those bandits. With the Mani Katti, _you_ killed Lundgren. I was just along for the ride, and gave bits of advice here and there. Things would have been fine, if a tiny bit more difficult, without me."_

"_Mark," Lyn's tone took a serious tone. "You're being weird. You think that's all you've done? You hooked Erk and Serra up by always putting them together to work out their differences. Florina became bold enough to make friends with Hector. Matthew forgave Jaffar for _killing _his damned_ lover._ Do you think anyone else could have pulled _that_ off? It's more than just your skill for tactics, your knack for people has made this army stronger than any other. Because we're not an army of soldiers; you've made us an army of friends."_

"_But I can barely swing a sword straight, and we have to devote soldiers to protecting me!"_

"_Here, I have an idea," Lyn said, pulling out a chain necklace from around her neck. It was shaped like a dagger, maybe three inches long. "This is your weapon now. It's special, like the Mani Katti is to me. I am a vessel for my sword's bite, and it is a vessel for my judgement. Your strength is your heart, so this is the vessel from your heart to your orders. It's like me."_

_Closing his fingers around the gift Lyn held out to him, Mark smiled. "Thanks, Lyndis." Then he took the point and stabbed his own hand with it._

"_Hey! What was that for?"_

_Mark smiled, even as blood began dripping from his hand to the ground. "I swear, from now on, a mistake I make on the battlefield will cost my own blood, not a friend's. Thank you, again. Now, let's go. Hector and Eliwood are entering the Dragon's Gate as we speak, so we shouldn't linger in the forest._

* * *

Watching a single drop of blood fall from his finger down to the bar counter, Mark sighed. Suddenly, he stood up. Downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, he threw some coins on the counter and strode out to meet his new employer.

* * *

**Welp, that's that. I may do a second chapter eventually, something like reflections on Mark reuniting with old friends/meeting old friends' kids. But for now, don't count on it.**


End file.
